Page 6 of Home for the Holidays

I notice he didn’t say he won the Frozen Four. That’s probably something I shouldn’t ask about, either.

“And now you’re with the Grizzlies.”

“They drafted me. I spent some time with the minor league team before they called me up. Signed an extension three years ago. I’m here to stay now.”

I shake my head. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah. It is,” he says, with a hint of steel in his voice. “Why are you here, Rachel?”

“I need a place to stay.” I swallow nervously. “If you don’t want me here⁠—”

“How did a girl like you wind up needing to move in with a virtual stranger?”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Because I’m dumb.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulls my arm away from my face. “You’re not dumb. You’re a fucking nuclear physicist.”

Forcing a laugh, I taunt back, “So I guess I’m not the only one in the gossip circles.”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah. I looked you up.”

My eyes go wide.

“Had to make sure I wasn’t offering my place up to a serial killer.”

“I promise I’m not a serial killer,” I tell him dryly. “I just… my boyfriend and I broke up, and I couldn’t stand the idea of staying in our apartment for a freaking day more, so I moved out with no plan. And then I realized I’m thirty-one and can’t crash on my friends’ couches anymore. So… here I am.”

He squeezes my elbow. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

My stomach leaps. “You are?”

“Yeah. It’ll be great to catch up. Like summer camp,” Jake says with a broad grin.

I snort out a laugh.

“Come on. Let me show you to your room.”

The bedroom is basic, already situated with a bed, nightstand, and a small desk and chair. Across the hallway is a bathroom with a sleek, shiny, silver shower.

“My office is through here,” he says, pointing at another door.

“You have an office?”

He laughs. “I don’t use it much. If you need to work from home or whatever, you can use it.”

“Most of my work has to be done in the lab or in the lecture hall,” I say carefully.

“Yeah. Right. That makes sense.” He nods a few times. “Well, the offer is there.”

I lift my chin toward the last door. “That’s your room?”

His cheeks flush pink. “Yeah. Do you, uh, want to see it?”

My eyebrows go up. “Uh… sure?”

He leads me down the short hallway to his bedroom. And then my jaw drops.

The first thing that strikes me is the view. He has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown below. The room is huge—funnily enough, that is not the first thing to register. An enormous bed is situated in the middle, with a recliner by the windows. His bed is haphazardly made, like he just tossed the blankets back over the mattress in a rush.